Abandoned Defenses
by Nesa's Catharsis
Summary: Erik fights his memories while a young woman he finds fights her own. ErikOC
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer I do not own the Phantom of the Opera or anything to do with it. That is probably a good thing.

* * *

One year. One year since that fateful night in which the Love of the Phantom was set free. One year since he had run blindly out into the streets of Paris, to escape the mob that swarmed his home and the pain of letting go of Christine.

Christine. A name that brought forth a tornado of emotions, including anger, fear, pain, and love. The haunting thoughts of what could have been had trailed the man beneath the opera house for what seemed like an eternity. They were not as bad though as the memories of what had happened. The man had thrown himself into restoring his trashed home and his only solace, his music, to try to chase the thoughts away, but they continued on, until he was forced to find something else to occupy his time. The answer came as he walked the night.

Erik had taken to walking out into the world on occasion, typically it was to retrieve supplies, but tonight it was simply to walk. He walked along the streets as little as possible, mostly just to get to the dark alleyways. He walked behind a large bustling tavern, his ears hurting from the voices of so many, especially from the drunken singing floating out from within. He was just coming to the end of the alley and preparing to turn onto a much quieter one when the noise behind him increased. He turned to find the door open and a large woman in a dirty apron throwing a figure out, screeching at the person to stay out of her sight. The woman slammed the door behind her and the crumpled figure remained motionless.

Not knowing what possessed him, Erik strode forward. He glanced at the door to confirm that it was closed and then he knelt to look at the form. Erik carefully turned the person over and his stomach clenched. A girl in her late teens lay before him, her dark hair was matter with blood and cuts scarred her dirty face. A long gash ran from her right eyebrow into the hairline, the eye on that side was blackened and her bottom lip was split open and bleeding sluggishly. However that was nothing compared to left side of her face. Besides having cuts, the left side of her face was a mass of red, swollen, blistered and peeling skin from her temple to her jaw line. A lump was rising on the back of her head from connecting with the brick wall of the alley and several other laceration were scattered along her body.

Erik bit the inside of his lip, he knew he couldn't leave this girl in the streets, but he didn't want anything to do with the outside world either. In the end his conscience won and he carefully slid his arms under her and lifted. She was lighter than the last female he had lifted. Memory came rushing back to him like a tsunami, Christine. The man's heart sank deeper into his chest seemingly and he closed his eyes painfully. '_Why, why, why-'_

The form in his arms groaned and his mind snapped back, no he had to keep his mind off of Her. This girl needed his help, and he better give it soon!

The Phantom stood and quickly took off, back to his home, back to his Hell.

* * *

Erik sat in a velvet shod chair beside his phoenix bed reading a book. The girl in his home had been asleep for two days, and Erik's back was beginning to ache from sleeping less than comfortably. He refused to go to his room and leave her in his home alone and would not sleep next to her in the phoenix bed as she would be frightened should she awaken. The man sighed; his eyes had been staring at the same page for five minutes, not comprehending a word. He had gone too long with out playing a note and his mind kept going back to Christine. He needed to do something; he had cleaned the strange girl's wounds as best he could and put ointment on them. As for her burn, he had raised her head and gently patted the area with damp cloths, he had browsed his medical books trying to find anything to help her, everything he could find had to be done by a professional, and she was not ready to be moved, nor was he ready to leave the Lair.

Besides her numerous lacerations, Erik had cleaned her hair slightly, he had combed out most of the tangles but had not washed her locks. He put his head back and closed his eyes, the book resting against his chest. He relaxed, trying to get some shut eye. A tune filled his head and he was just dozing off when he heard a small whimper.

The Phantom's eyes flew open and he looked at the young woman in front of him. The girl was wriggling, as though to get away from something and whimpering, gradually her noises got louder, until she was saying things, "No, please don't. No. NO!" She screeched the last and then started screaming as though in immense pain. Erik had been watching uneasily, but when she started speaking he was at her side in an instance.

"Mademoiselle awaken," he had said, then he grasped her wrist. The girl jerked away from his touch, but he held on. "Child it is a dream." He put his hand on her shoulder and gave a shake.

Green eyes flew open and the girl looked at the ceiling, then closed her eyes and tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. She shook with sobs then took a ragged breath, tears now streaming down her cheeks. She brought her hands to her face and started crying more, but stifled it all when she felt her left cheek. The girl's eyes grew large and her fingers shook as she caressed the place that used to be soft rosy skin. "No," she said with disbelief, "No, no, no, no," she repeated over and over again. Erik had stood back to observe this change.

In a rapid movement the girl threw off her blankets, stood, and grabbed a mirror that rested on a table near by. The girl looked at her reflection, her avocado eyes flicking at the image before her, taking it all in. Erik took a step towards her as she stood still, but lunged when she threw the mirror across the room and grabbed a hair brush. The masked man rushed to her and grabbed her hands to keep her from throwing his mother's things.

The girl spun and lashed out at him, "Let me go! Don't touch me, I'm a monster don't touch me!" The girl's head barely came even with his collar bone, but she jerked her hands out of his grasp and beat on his chest with wild blows, tears streaming down her face, "Don't touch me," she choked out. Finally, her eyes became too blurred to see and her sorrow too heavy to fight and she sunk to her knees. She folded over and wept bitterly, her hands held behind her neck, her arms hiding her disfigured face, she rocked back and forth as she cried.

Erik took a few steps backwards; he had not dealt with a crying girl in a long time, or with anyone who had a face similar to his own. He was unsure how to deal with this and so he went back to his chair and waited.

Erik's eyes were closed when he heard clothing rustling. He opened his eyes and saw the girl standing and walking to the bed.

"I am sorry monsieur, that is not my normal behavior," she said quietly. She sat on the edge of the bed, her head tipped down and her hair hiding her face.

"It is understandable mademoiselle."

"Understandable maybe, but not acceptable. I am ashamed that you saw that. I am ashamed that you have seen me at all. I am neither dressed appropriately nor acceptable for anyone to see. I am not what I once was. I am monster now," she said, her head hanging heavier if it was possible.

"Now?" He wondered how she had become as she was now.

"Of course now. I cannot imagine someone being born like this," she did not see Erik flinch or feel the coldness that emanated from him. "Although," she said quietly, almost to herself, "There are some who are obviously able to, stories are always circulating of the men who live underground with faces that are so gruesome that they can kill." She turned to Erik abruptly and looked up at him through her hair, her green eyes shining brightly from her red and puffy face, "Have you heard these stories? Do you think they are true?"

"Does it matter mademoiselle?" His voice was cold and hard, but she did not seem to pick up on his anger.

"Of course it matters. If I can find them… I might be safe. I can stay with them perhaps and not be afraid." She looked close to tears at the prospect of leaving all she had known. But her hands were clinched in determination.

"I am sure you will heal without too much scaring and will be able to live a normal life," his tones showed his emotions well, he thought her an overly dramatic little girl.

"I am not afraid of being ridiculed. I can handle that. What I fear is what could happen if I return home."

"And what will happen mademoiselle?"

She didn't respond her mind coming up with too many possibilities. Finally she tucked her legs under the blood red blankets and lay back on the pillows, staring at the ceiling. "Horrible things will happen." She turned her head and looked at him, "My name is Helena Guichard, Monsieur…" She let the introduction hang for him to finish.

"Erik." They were still for a minute before Erik rose from his chair so abruptly that Helena jumped slightly. He glared down at her silently and then turned and strode to the door out of the room.

When he reached for the door knob Helena spoke, "Might I bathe? Or do you think it would harm me further?"

"I am sure your cleanliness would not harm you one bit. You will find all you will need."

Helena looked around the room. "Can I-" He was gone. Helena rose timidly to search for what she would need to bathe.


	2. Chapter 2

Music drifted from the lake front room of Erik's home and the door to the guest room opened slowly. Helena peeked around the door cautiously. She was clean and dressed in a robe which had been simple enough for her aching body to put on. She had also slipped on a comfortable chemise and white slippers in an attempt to be dressed appropriately.

Helena looked at the small amount of the lake front room that she could see. Her mouth dropped open in awe. She pushed the door open more and stepped out, taking it all in. She turned around looking all around her and then her eyes landed on Erik at the organ.

The music he played confused her. She had never heard anything so beautiful and intricate but it made her want to cry just by listening to it.

She walked quietly to him and stood back and to his right, watching him play. Movement caught her eyes and she turned her head to find an exotic cat looking at her. The cat was sitting on a corner of the organ watching her without blinking. Helena stared back and moved to step toward the cat when Erik's music changed. It went from sad and lonely to angry and hopeless in an instant. It was played like that for only a minute maybe when it changed to lonely and hopeless.

'_He's not reading any music,_' she realized. '_This isn't just any song it's from his soul. What happened to make him feel like this?_'

She reached forward her right hand to touch his shoulder. But drew it back a little when she felt the cat's glare. She glared back and then reached forward and barely touched his shoulder.

Before she could react his hand reached up and grabbed her hand and twisted her wrist hard. She hit her knees with a whimper as he whirled to glare at her. She didn't see the hatred coming from his eyes because her own were closed in pain.

Suddenly the pain was gone and so was Erik. She looked up and saw the edge of his cloak disappear through a door at the opposite end of the room. He closed the door behind him as Helena cradled her throbbing wrist holding back tears. She heard a soft thump and looked up into blue eyes. The cat sat, looking down at her, and if she could talk Helena imagined the cat would tell her it was her own fault for surprising Erik. Then the cat turned with an air of contempt and pranced to the door. She gently scraped the door with her claws and a second later the door opened. The cat walked in and the door soundly closed behind her.

Helena pursed her lips and stood up to walk back to her room when she heard a growl and crash come from the room Erik was in. Then she heard another crash and more growls. Helena stumbled back to her room's door and listened to Erik yell and growl and throw things with her back pressed against the closed door. The roars of anger echoed through the cave-like house but before long they stopped abruptly. Helena was frightened even more by this and so she checked that the door was locked and retreated under the covers of the bed.

* * *

Helena slowly opened the door to the main room to find it empty. She had hid in the bed for at least an hour and had heard nothing further when she decided to check if he was alright. She crept softly to the door of what she guessed was his room and tapped gently.

"Monsieur Erik?" She called softly through the door afraid to wake him if he was asleep but afraid of him being hurt and needing her help. '_I need him to survive down here,_' she thought. "Erik, are you well? Do you need anything? Is there anything I can do?"

"_You can leave me alone,_" said his voice inside her head.

Helena looked around surprised but didn't see anyone. She nodded hesitantly, "As you wish." Then retreated from the door and went to sit in an arm chair.

* * *

When the door to Erik's room finally opened the cat pranced out of the room followed by Erik. The cat jumped on the organ bench and then onto her perch beside the organ, waiting for the normal routine to continue.

Erik however did not sit at the organ to play from his soul but instead walked to his dark red arm chair to look at the girl curled up there with her head on the arm rest. Helena was asleep and did not notice him lift her right arm gently to look at the bruised and swollen wrist.

"She startled me," he said by way of an exclamation.

"I'm sorry," Helena mumbled without opening her eyes. One tear escaped to roll across her nose and fall on the velvet upholstery.

"Sorry for what?" Erik's voice wasn't as cold as before but not warm either.

"For you getting hurt."

Erik put her hand down and looked at her thoughtfully. He hadn't been hurt, she had. What was she talking about?

His mind didn't connect his hurt over Christine with the hurt she had sensed. This would be one of the few times in the last year that his mind did not connect something with Christine.

"Mreow," came the call from his organ and he looked over to see Ayesha sitting there watching him.

"Not tonight Ayesha," Erik answered. Then he walked into the guest room. A minute later he came out and draped a red blanket over Helena. Solemnly he moved a wavy blonde lock from under her nose to behind her ear. Then he went back to his room.

* * *

"So, your name is Ayesha then?" Erik's eyes flew open as Helena's voice drifted into his room through the cracked door. "Ayesha," she said thoughtfully. Erik eased out of his coffin bed and to the door, looking out to the lakeside room.

Helena was on her knees behind his organ bench her chin resting on her left hand looking at Ayesha who sat on the bench looking down on Helena slightly. "Ayesha is nice name," she said gently. "But is it for a tomcat or…?"

"_Ayesha is a lady-cat,_" Erik's voice said in Helena's right ear. She jumped and looked around to find Erik near his door on the left side of the room.

She jumped to her feet and backed up, her eyes large and her left hand gently holding her right wrist.

"I'm sorry I woke you," she said meekly.

"Do not fear me." His voice commanded her and she felt as though she wanted to obey but his very presence struck up a counter attack on her will. Her heart said to trust him and her mind said he was dangerous. Ultimately she felt confused.

'_His voice is incredible. I've never heard anything like it,_' she thought in awe. '_It doesn't sound like it would fit in the world, but it fits here…_' Suddenly a thought rushed into her mind and she opened her mouth to voice it. "Where-?"

"I will not tell you where you are. You must let go of that question and trust me," he told her soundly. There would be no arguing with him on this she could tell.

He stepped forward and she instinctively stepped back. He stopped and watched her. Had she been closer she would have seen the hurt in his eyes. "Might I see your wrist?"

She swallowed, nodded, and walked forward extending her hand. Erik nodded tightly and walked forward as well. He took a hold of her hand and brought it higher. He twisted it to look at it from each angle and then grazed his fingers over it to check for swelling. Helena winced as he pressed on one of the dark bruises, his eyes studied her face each time he pressed looking for where it hurt and where it didn't. "Make a fist," he said and she did. "Twist your wrist." She made her fist go in a twisting circle and Erik dropped her hand.

"You'll be fine, nothing is harmed I think, just bruised." He stepped back a bit.

"Oh," she said at a loss for anything else to say.

"Does anything else hurt?"

"Everything hurts, though not as bad as… before. How long have I been here?"

"Three days. I will have to leave to get supplies to make a burn ointment. And to get you food."

She nodded, not really knowing what to say.

He watched her sad face waiting for her to speak. Finally though he decided she would not. "While I am gone you can treat your other wounds."

She opened her mouth suddenly but he cut her off before she could speak, having anticipated the question, "No you may not come with me. You may not leave this place yet."

She closed her mouth. Her lower lip further out than her bottom in a slight pout. She nodded, showing that she would not argue and Erik turned to go behind a curtain. Light showed under the heavy red drape and he came out a minute later with two bottles in his big hands.

"This one is for bruises," he said indicating the larger, green bottle, "and this one for cuts." The smaller bottle was black glass. He handed both to Helena who took them in her left hand and nodded her understanding. Then he pointed to his room. "Do not go into that room and do not touch my organ or papers. If it is locked leave it alone and if it is hidden you should not have found it in the first place. When I come back I want my things where they are. If I find that you have disturbed my home further you will not enjoy your stay. Is that clear?"

"Oui monsieur. M-might you acquire a paper while you are out? Perhaps one that the lower of Paris might read?"

"If I find one…" he let the response go, he would not go looking for special things for this girl, he was doing enough already.

"Oui monsieur, merci." She turned to go back to her room as he walked to the side of the lake. Erik waited until she was in her room before opening the gate and pulling out his gondola. His eyes looked around his room before he stepped into the boat, memorizing the placing of everything so that when he came back he would know what she had moved.

* * *

"These balms have the most interesting texture," Helena told Ayesha who lay on the bed with her legs and paws tucked under her, watching the girl. "The green one is more liquid than the other, more like water or oil. But the black one is like a paste. I bet both of them stain though."

She stood in the room naked but for the slippers on her feet. She looked at herself in the mirror. She looked better than she felt that much was certain. "I don't suppose all of my wounds are physical. I wonder if this will ever heal." Her eyes looked at her left cheek but her mind was on her heart.

She tipped the green liquid onto a rag and dabbed it on all the bruises she could reach, which were all but the ones on her back, and when she finished she found that the skin she had dabbed it on first was tinted green.

Then she took the other end of the rag and let some of the black paste roll on to it. She took the rag between her thumb and fingers and spread it around. Then she spread it in a thin line along a scratch on her abdomen. She sucked in breath through her teeth, the paste stung. Then gritting her teeth the spread it along her other cuts and scratches.

Finally she was standing there with green, pink, and black skin with nothing to do but wait for the black paste to dry. At first she stood with her arms and legs spread to let it dry but found that she grew cold like that so instead she opened the closet to look at the clothes there.

The dresses ranged from the gaudy to the plain, at one end of the closet were velvets and silks and at the other end worn cotton. The higher line dresses were new and looked as though they had never been worn; the common clothes looked like they had been worn well and long but not in years.

Looking in the chest of drawers Helena found that the clothing there ranged in quality as well.

Helena lay back sideways across the bed and looked over at Ayesha, "Whose clothes were these? And why the difference of styles and wear? It's as though two completely different women lived here, one who used her clothes well and one used wore nothing. I wonder what happened…"

She felt a scratch on her cheek and found the black paste had dried so she sat up and went to the chest of drawers. She needed to figure out what she could wear in the closet and dresser and the best way would be to try it on. The pulled out five corsets and laid them out on the bed. Then frowning she went to the closet and looked at the dresses more closely. Everything was the same size, all of the old and new clothes looked to be made to fit the same person.

Frowning she slipped into a thin chemise and then into one of the corsets. It was featherbone and silk, a durable mix of high quality and expense. She had a little bit of difficulty tightening the corset but eventually managed.

Looking into the closet Helena now had to choose which dress to put on. She chose the least flamboyant of the high end dresses, a maroon dress with minimal lace and a more relaxed style.

She unbuttoned the dress and put it on then struggled to fasten it correctly. Finally she shook her blonde hair out and straightened the dress. Turning around in the mirror she studied herself.

"Obviously," she said speaking aloud, "whoever these clothes were made for was taller than I and her body was more mature then mine. Well I say that," she said looking down. She filled out the dress well except that her hips seemed more slender than the woman the dress was made for and the top of the dress could do with a little more room. "I can wear these, I won't have to tighten the corset so much since I am so small, but I might have to hem the dresses. I wonder if Erik has a needle and thread that I can use."

She continued to look at herself critically, "I would be very pretty in this dress were I not a hideously scarred monster." Then angrily she hurried out of the dress hung it up and pulled out a worn white blouse and faded navy skirt. After she had put them on with shaking hands she looked at herself again.

"At least I look more like my station in life now. None of those dresses are appropriate for me. I could have lived my life and never gotten to touch such beautiful things and all would be normal." Then she looked at Ayesha, "But I'm not normal am I? No, I am strange and different and should be kept away from all human kind. As soon as I find where the Monster Men live I will join them. Or maybe I'll die before then and save everyone the trouble. You don't like me so why would you care."

She flopped back on the bed and was silent for a while then she spoke softly, "I'm sorry. I wouldn't be talking to you so much if I had my cat. You would like him, his name is Perrault, he's quite the gentle-cat."

Suddenly very somber Helena rolled onto her side and tucked her legs up close to her body and rested her head on her arm. "What will happen to me? Will I heal? Will I ever be able to go back?" She closed her eyes but no tears came instead she fell into a semi-slumber.

* * *

Helena didn't hear Erik's gondola hit the shore or hear him unloading his purchases or close the gate, she did however feel Ayesha jump off the bed and heard her scratch at the door. When Helena opened the door she saw Erik disappear behind the red curtain he had gone behind earlier.

Straightening her rumpled commoner's clothes she sat in the deep red arm chair to wait for him to come out. Soon he stepped out from behind the curtain and moved around the far end of the room. He didn't look at her and she began to wonder if he had seen her until he threw a couple of papers at her.

"Found these, not sure if they are what you were wanting but I'll not go out again for merely a paper."

Helena nodded and picked up the papers and started to cart them off to her room when he spoke to her again making her spin around to face him, "The burn balm will be ready tomorrow it must stew for now."

"Merci, monsieur." Then she fled back into the room rather mouse-like.


	3. Chapter 3

"MISSING: Girl of nineteen. Severely scarred and possibly insane. Answers to Helena Guichard. Contact Monsieur Atrur Guichard at…" The article continued to give the Guichard address, however no reward was offered.

"Insane? How could he say I am insane?" Helena sat cross legged on the bed, she had shucked the worn skirt and blouse and new corset and was back in her comfortable shift and robe. She stared at the paper in her hands not believing what she saw. She had been labeled insane in a public paper. The ad had gone out calling for her to be brought back home but no reward was given. She was wanted but not badly enough for a bounty.

"I can't believe him! How dare he? I can't believe it!" She threw the papers off the bed as hard as she could but being papers they scattered and didn't get far. She sat there seething for a few minutes before looking at the door that led to the lake front room with a wicked glint in her eyes.

In a flash Helena was at the door and opening it wide. She looked out into the room to find it empty. With determination she walked to the door across from her own. She rapped smartly on the door to Erik's room. When no answer came she knocked again, this time louder and more insistently.

The door opened and she was looking at a naked chest. Helena stepped back and looked up into Erik's irritated face. His white shirt was open and his hair looked wet, the thought raced across her mind that she must have disturbed his bath.

"What?" He said his eyes glaring into her face. She quickly felt ashamed at having bothered him for something so unimportant as-

'No, it isn't unimportant, it is terrible important,' she thought and her face hardened again. "Erik I need to go out into the city."

"No." She wasn't even sure his lips had moved with the simple word but she did know his eyes squinted further in more anger.

"You don't understand I-"

"No, I do not care."

"I don't care if you care or not, I have to go back to the city and will not take no for an answer." 'Father always said I was too stubborn, especially after- Non! I will not think of this now, I must answer this ad.' She continued and had she not been so angry she might have burst into flames from the searing glares she was given by Erik, "You cannot imagine how important it is that I go to Paris!"

"I can imagine a great deal. Now give me a good reason to listen to your pleas or do not speak of this again."

"I-" Helena paused as she was about to continue to argue. No she had to answer his question, there was no doubt about that. But what she could tell him would have to be thought about.

Helena stepped backwards, turned around and brought her hand to her lips and thought. "An ad went out in the paper calling for my return home. I must answer it. If I do not I will be thought dead."

She turned to look back at Erik whose expression had not changed. "Just please take me there," Helena said, pleading with him. "You can make it so I don't know where we are or anything, I care not, but I must get to Paris. If you want to get rid of me then you can but I must go."

She didn't see any indicators that he had even heard her heartfelt pleas. But he abruptly turned and went behind the red curtain where he had gotten her balms. She waited, not moving until her feet grew cold from not moving and she was thinking about sitting in the chair to wait when he came out with a bowl of a white paste-like substance.

"If you are going out into the city you will have to have a mask, to have a mask you we must first make a mold of your face. Now sit on that stool and hold your breath."

* * *

It was one week more in Erik's home before he knocked on her door with a small chest under his arm. When Helena opened the door she seized the box from his arm and set it on the bed.

Her wounds were healing nicely, with only yellow bruises and red scratches to prove she had been hurt. She had also taken to wearing the corsets and worn clothes from the closet in her room. However the burn on her cheek was still red and puffy, in places in was rough and in others it seemed to ooze a liquid. The balm Erik had made had helped some though Helena guessed she would never look the same no matter how much she healed.

Helena opened the hat box to find more masks than she could imagine. They came in a rainbow of colors and styles, each a beauty in its own way. The top one she picked out was white and looked like it would match Erik's own.

"Are you pleased with them?" Helena jumped, she had forgotten Erik was at the door watching her.

"They are exquisite. I love them!" She looked up at his emotionless face.

"Try one on."

Helena nodded and slid the white one over her left cheek. Erik nodded stiffly and she turned to look in the mirror. She smirked at her reflection. She looked mysterious and commanding. She looked… "I look almost like you. Except prettier." She looked at him in the mirror slyly.

"Indeed," he said roughly. Erik turned around and went out the door while Helena smiled to herself. She sat at the vanity to look at herself, thinking about all that had happened since she had come to know Erik. Things had changed between them and although she was still cautious with him she would joke and tease him like she might a cousin. She had not spoken of her past and neither had he. Erik had changed very little. He still seemed to keep her at arms' length emotionally and physically. He treated her as though something he wished he didn't have but was resigned to.

'And now I look like him. It is strange that he wears a mask. I know that I hide something under mine, does he do the same?' Helena had never considered the mask Erik wore. It was just part of him. But her mask was an item of clothing, something she could choose to wear or not. His was the same surely. What was he hiding?

She sat there for a few minutes more in deep thought before she caught sight of the reflection of Ayesha sitting at the door.

"Come to ridicule me as I suspect many will do? Or are you ready for me to leave?" The cat didn't move, not so much as to blink and Helena couldn't see her breathing either. "I suppose the later then?"

Helena smirked and rose from the stool to go close the door to her room. Ayesha jumped onto her bed and watched as Helena looked through the closet. Today she would be going into Paris to meet with her family. Today she had to look like she was in control and stable. She had to appear strong, unfazed, and angry. She would have to be a complete turn about from what had last been seen of her.

* * *

It had been two hours since Erik had left Helena's room after she had tried on her mask. He had been thinking the whole time about out how their personalities contrasted. He was cynical, heartbroken, passionate, and dark. She was like a bareback ride on a wild horse through untouched woods, never the same. She seemed to already have a mask on, an emotional mask, she would laugh and joke like there was no problem in the world but when left to her own thoughts too long she would grow quiet with a distant, pained look in her eyes.

Erik knocked on the door to Helena's room. He had told her that he would take her into town after she had received her masks. But if she didn't hurry he would change his mind.

"I'm coming. Just a minute more," came the call from the other side of the door.

Erik grunted in annoyance and stepped back to his chair.

Five minutes later he walked back to the door and said clearly, "I will wait no longer, come now or do intend on going at all."

Erik turned around and had only walked five steps when he heard the door open. He turned and had he not had so much control over his face his jaw would have dropped and his eyes would have bulged out. Instead he silently stood there and took in every aspect of her appearance while she looked at him nervously.

The dress she wore was primarily red but had a sheer black overlay making it seem darker. It had black embroidered roses on the low cut neck, an intricate bustle and puffy-shouldered long sleeves. She wore black gloves and black lace up boots. Her mask was one of the more unique masks; it was covered in black velvet and was shaped rather like flames. It had two fiery fingers that reached over her right eye brow, then the black flame raced down and across her nose to her left cheek then back into her hair. Helena's blonde locks were curled and swept back into a loose knot at the back of her head, many curls falling out to rest on her shoulders. The young woman had made use of the many face colors on the vanity as well.

It was all very striking and different and would have been more so had she not bit her red lower lip and wrung her hands as Erik stood looking at her silently.

"Well, what do you think?"

"I think," Erik said as he pulled a small vial out of his coat pocket, "they will have no difficulty believing you are alive."


	4. Chapter 4

Helena woke to the clattering of a coach. She was groggy. She had last been drinking the contents of Erik's vial and now he sat across from her in the rattling coach. He looked more frightening here than he did in his home. His long cloak seemed to soak up any light and he was little more than a shadow; his mask however was bright in the darkness.

Darkness! Helena looked out the carriage window, they were in a city, she guessed Paris and it was dark, but still the night buzzed with intrigue.

"_Where is your home?"_ Erik's voice floated on the air in the carriage.

"How did I get here?"

"That is unimportant. Where do you live?"

Helena gave the address quietly and in a few seconds the driver of the carriage was changing direction to head for her house.

The journey was tense. Erik didn't like being out and Helena was nervous about seeing her father. Too soon in her opinion they pulled up before an old alley and Helena and Erik climbed out. The driver sat rigidly in the carriage but Helena kept her question to herself. She was afraid that if she spoke she would be sick.

Silently she led the way down the alley and stopped before a door. She did not know how late it was but there were no lights on. She knew the door would be locked and didn't know if anyone was home. She had not prepared for this possibility. Helena looked up at Erik. "I-it's locked. What do I do?"

The large black form drifted forward, he almost seemed to be floating rather than walking. He moved in front of the door and Helena couldn't see anything but his back. There was a click and the door swung open. Erik stepped back and Helena steeled herself to step inside. Before she took a step however something brushed against her leg. She stumbled back into Erik and looked down. A dark cat rubbed against her legs again. Helena bent and picked the dirty creature up. "Perrault." The plaintive cries of the cat were muffled as she hugged him to her.

Perrault's presence seemed to give her confidence and she stepped into her old home. Once over the threshold Helena breathed a sigh. She almost felt like the world would collapse if she came back here but everything seemed intact. Her house was a mess however. The dark did little to hide the filth that covered every surface in the room which served as sitting room, kitchen, and dining room. Helena strode across the room and down a hall to the first door she found. It was empty. Her father was not home. Instead she went to the small table at the far side of the bed. Hesitantly she picked up a comb. It was old and not worth anything but Helena handled it like she would a priceless object. She placed the comb on the bed and started searching through the single drawer in the table. It was empty.

"Where is it? It should be here!"

No voice replied but she looked toward the doorframe. There stood Erik.

"My mother's things. There was not much but it is gone now." She looked down at the comb on the bed and then at the other side of the bed. "He sold them! That miserable bastard sold her things. Those were mine and he sold them! How dare he?"

Helena stormed from the room but was back in a flash, this time something glinted in the scarce light from the window. Helena lifted her arm and plunged the knife down to the mattress. She pulled it down ripping through the mattress. They had been hungry for months and then her father had come back with this mattress. All in an effort to make her mother feel better he said. This was why she could smell the sex in the air. Yes, mother would have been very comfortable knowing who her husband was entertaining in this room.

Helena ripped at the mattress reducing it to shreds and Erik said not a word. When she could find nothing else to shred she lay the knife down and picked up the comb. "We can go now."

Erik swept from the room as she scooped up her cat and then followed. They were picking their way through the messy front room when they heard a loud swear from the door.

Helena's blood ran cold and she clutched Perrault tight.


	5. Chapter 5

Helena shook with nerves. She looked toward Erik and he was already sweeping down the hall looking for an alternative exit. Perrault meowed in protest to my tight hold.

"Damn cat," was muttered from the main room. "Must have wondered in. Where is that candle?"

"Here it is," said a second voice and a small light started then grew as the candle in question was lit.

Helena had slid into her mother's room when the candle was lit. Erik had disappeared. The light grew dimmer and Helena slid her head around the corner to look for Erik. He was gone but the door to her old room was not closed. Helena looked toward the main room. No one was in sight and there were the sounds of shuffling through the junk. Helena slid across the hall and into the room silently.

Helena let Perrault drop to the floor and was faced with Erik's broad back. One wall of her old room was covered in old opera fliers. His face was stony as he looked at them.

"I always wanted to work at the Opera House," Helena whispered. "I knew I would never sing or dance but I wouldn't have minded making the costumes. Just being a part would have been…" He voice trailed off. She knew that would never happen now.

"We need to get out of here," Erik's low voice rumbled and he turned away from the wall. "Stand beside me if you want to come back with me or you can stay here. Don't say anything either way."

He swept from the room and she shuffled behind him. Erik's cloak seemed to billow with each step and he almost seemed to grow larger as he walked down the short hall. They walked through the main room and the two men there were too drunk to hear them. They had almost made it to the door when they heard a shriek from behind, closely followed by "Mary, mother of God!"

Erik turned. The men shrunk back. One's mouth was open in a silent shriek. He was young and dirty. His fellow was old and dirty and seemed to be the more angry of the two. "What are you doing in my house?"

Erik stepped forward and smirked. "Haunting."

The two men's eyes grew wider and the younger one started wimpering.

"What else do you expect from ghosts?" Erik's voice seemed to reverberate off the walls and whisper and shriek all at the same time. Helena couldn't see his face and wondered if he even moved his lips.

"You said I was dead to you," Helena murmured huskily from the folds of her cloak. Perrault hissed in the drunkards' direction. Erik turned and, followed by Helena, left through the still open door of the house. They climbed silently into the still waiting carriage. Erik tapped the roof and they took off. He handed Helena the vial.

Helena was still looking at the door which had given her the last view of her neighborhood mulling over what she had found. She uncorked the vial and took a small sip from it. Within a minute her head had fallen in a deep slumber and Erik had directed their driver toward the Opera House.


	6. Chapter 6

Helena woke to find Perrault snuggled close against her. The cat was clean though when she had fallen asleep he had been almost unrecognizable. Now his gray stripes were bright against his black fur, or maybe his black stripes were dark against his gray fur.

As she rose she found herself fully clothed except for shoes and her mask. Erik had pulled a blanket over her but not undressed her and she felt something odd to find it out, she felt relieved to know that he wouldn't take advantage of her but also sad, maybe because he hadn't tried. That confused her and she clinched a fist to make those thoughts flee.

She tried not the think about it the whole time she washed and brushed and changed. She had almost managed to not think about it until she left her room, Perrault dashing out the door before her. She had almost managed until she saw Erik bent over his organ, frantically writing on a sheet of paper. She probably would have managed to not think about it then too had she not seen sketches of a curly haired girl scattered around the bench.

'_That is why he doesn't try,'_ she thought, _'because he has someone to think about.'_ Then she had to admonish herself. _'You have someone, too.'_

Erik spun on the bench to look at her though she hadn't moved for a full five minutes. "Are you well?" His voice sounded raspy and thick, like he held back emotion and had been screaming all at the same time.

"Well enough. Hungry though," she murmured, quieter than she would have liked. Erik motioned to the curtained doorway he had previously gotten all his balms and vials from and turned back around.

Something in his posture or manner bothered Helena. It didn't frighten her like he was angry but made her want to hold him, to pet him like she would a frightened animal. They didn't really know each other but she wanted to comfort whatever bothered him.

"Do you want anything while I am in here?" Helena called from the curtained room which she now knew was a well stocked pantry. She heard faint scratching but nothing more. "Erik? Are you hungry?" Helena peeked her head out to ask more directly but stopped. Erik was scrambling for the papers from the bench. He was moving woodenly and far less gracefully than she had ever seen him move. He almost looked like he was shaking, like he was frightened, and was picking up the papers because he was supposed to.

"What was her name?" The words were out of the mouth almost before she could think them. She didn't know what had possessed her to ask that when it wasn't her place. Erik's head shot up and she could see his eyes were bloodshot as they narrowed. Icy fear shot through her veins as Erik sat up and started to stand.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ask! I'm sorry I shouldn't have! Erik, listen to me, I didn't mean to ask." Helena's pleas fell on deaf ears. Erik stalked toward her and Helena scrambled out of the pantry and down the stairs leading to the lake. "Erik you need to listen to me," she moaned, starting to cry in fright, "I'm sorry. I didn't think. Erik, please!"

The tall dark figure no longer resembled Erik; the anger in him twisted his face and seemed to make him more solid, like he was made of stone rather than flesh. Three steps more and she would be in the lake, five steps more and he would be within reach of her. Helena took another step back and slipped on a wet spot. She started to fall back. Erik's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. He pulled her toward him, his other hand went to her neck and he slammed her into the wall.

"Erik!" Helena's scream reverberated on the cave walls. The man didn't even blink, his eyes were glazed and his skin felt cold as Helena's hands scrambled at his hand that was pressing her air off. Helena scratched and clawed at his hand before reaching for his face. Her nails left bloody trails on the left side of his face and then the world seemed to stand still as her fingers caught his mask and it was dislodged and flew away.


	7. Chapter 7

Helena's eyes barely had time to register seeing red, angry welts on the right side of Erik's face before he slammed her head against the stone wall. Spots filled her vision and she felt herself being tossed to the side.

"DO NOT SPEAK OF HER!" Erik's voice echoed off the stone walls and Helena tried to pull herself into a ball. She saw his shoes cross to his room, then he stopped and turned back. "If you do, I will kill you." The door into his room closed and Helena rolled to her knees. But rather than run and hide in her room she crawled toward the organ bench. She studied the various papers Erik had left there. Each was a different angle on what seemed to be the same young woman with dark curly hair. She darted a glance at Erik's door and silently lifted the top layer of papers. More of this same girl. There was a virtual book of sketches of this one girl.

Helena felt her mouth go dry. This was more than mere obsession. She wondered who this girl was that she would be so deeply rooted in Erik's mind. Did she know that the man was tormented by her memory? Would she care? She carefully replaced the papers in the order she had lifted them, hoping he wouldn't notice. Her eye caught on a collection of crumpled papers under the organ. She silently lifted one and started to open it. The crinkles seemed as loud as a scream in the otherwise silent chamber and Helena furtively gathered the papers in her arms and tiptoed to her room. Once behind the closed door she dropped the balls of paper on the bed and opened one. Words were scrabbled across the paper in angry marks:

_My dearest Christine,_

_Despite my greatest wish to let you live the life you have chosen I must beg you consider me instead. I know I cannot offer-_

The words cut off and she opened another.

_Christine,_

_I beg you to love me! My song is unable to escape my mind without you to inspire me. My every thought is of you and I wonder-_

She opened another.

_Darling Christine,_

_I promised myself I would not contact you, but-_

Each letter was written to this Christine, each one ending before Erik could properly tell of his love for her. With each letter spread out on her bed she tried to plan what to do with this knowledge. Clearly she could not let Erik know she knew. These letters would have to be put back where she had found them and she would have to feign innocence. She crumpled the papers and peeked out her door, Erik was still in his room. She tossed the papers under the organ and checked that they looked like they did before. Pleased with the effect she turned to go back to her room then she paused. She looked back at Erik's door and made a decision. Five minutes later he heard a tentative tapping at his door and heard metal rattle outside of his door. As he opened the door he saw a skirt disappear behind Helena's door. He looked down at a small silver tray set with tea things.


End file.
